


with every single word i withold

by likelightning



Category: Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelightning/pseuds/likelightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wizard was long gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with every single word i withold

_'And Glinda in her gowns, waiting to be good enough to deserve what she gets.'_   
  
The perfect curves of her bubble were pink-white, slick-smooth against her fingertips, bending under her stout heels and curving above the point of her glittering tiara. Smooth, like thick, clear glass that made certain things crystal clear and others smeared and uncertain. She had thought, for years and years, that if she pressed too hard on the edges or sliced them with her fingernail the bubble would pop. She didn't like to think about what would happen next. She didn’t like to look down at the flying fields of green or boxy farmhouses disappearing behind her. She tried to drift as high as possible, swept along by fluffy white clouds and the broken streams of sunlight searching for her in the sky.  
  
It was times like these, on long journeys when she was sometimes afraid her magic would suddenly give out and she'd be sent hurtling to the ground, skirts whipping up and around her, that she was left with too much time to think. The air became too thin and she found it hard to get enough in her lungs, her habitual vertigo leaving her breathless, skin flushed and constrained beneath the fabricated curves of her shimmering dress.  
  
She thought, sometimes, that Elphaba was flying along below on her rough-hewn stick, dodging puffs of silvery clouds and grey-winged birds, black hair whipping out behind her. It was comforting to think that only she and Elphaba had shared these skies, had controlled their direction in them, even if those directions had ceased to cross.  
  
She knew the image was a mirage. Elphaba was only an echo.  
  
It was terribly quiet in her perfect bubble, soundless except for her quiet breathing and the ruffle of her skirts. The clouds parted for her and she sped in and out of sunlight patches that glittered incandescently on the curves of her bubble. She shut her eyes and tried to remember where she was going, to whom she would be smiling and singing.  
  
They were comforted by her, by their dear Glinda the Good. They were comforted by the idea of her, as sweet and pointless as shapeless cotton candy, pink and frilly and shimmering. They liked to watch her gently wave her wand and create a stream of bubbles that drifted between the children, that tickled the cat’s nose and burst on dull blades of grass. They liked that she didn’t talk politics or hard work or Animals, didn’t remind them of the Wizard. She supposed they thought she didn’t have any knowledge of those things. She didn’t know what they thought, if they actually thought of her at all.  
  
She supposed it really didn’t matter.  
  
Suddenly, the clouds dispersed and a long stretch of bare sky and hot sun ran before her. For a brief moment she knew she was going extremely fast, the clouds receding rapidly behind her, but soon it was just flat, empty sky and she stared straight ahead, still slightly disconcerted by the ground passing beneath her. She landed soon after, her bubble drifting gracefully onto a patch of road. The mayor stood waiting, broad grin stretched across his pudgy features, and she smiled benevolently, tilting her head slightly. They whisked her away into an elaborate carriage and she spent the afternoon at a wealthy boarding school, changing their apples bright pink and blowing bubbles through the cafeteria.  
  
It was easy to get wrapped up in her persona and she had never been averse to easy. She declined to stay the night, quickly forming her bubble around her instead. They stared with eyes wide and mouths hanging and she smiled without really seeing them. The sky was black as sin but the moon was silver against grey clouds and all she really needed was the idea of home to get there. When she was high enough that buildings became indistinguishable from land and she felt as though there was no one else in the world, she sat down in a flurry of misplaced skirts and ruffled curls. The moon shone dully in the reflections of the bubble and she shut her eyes.  
  
Elphaba never cried. Not once. Glinda knew it wasn't solely due to the girl's stoicism, but believing in that exaggeration allowed her to stay just as strong. She tied her fingers together and returned to the comforting delusion that Elphaba was flying only a few feet below, like a dark-winged bird watching over her. Her emerald skin illuminated by the dim moonlight, contrasting with the shadows of her cloak and the brown wood she clung to. Glinda could see her clearly, those flashing black eyes finding hers through the mist.  
  
She was never alone.  
  
Glinda opened her eyes and blinked twice in the silver light of early morning. She instinctively reached up to right the crooked tiara on her head and muttered a few words to fix her hair and face and dress, stumbling to stand on unsteady legs. Emerald City glimmered and glittered in the distance, set off by the first rays of a rising sun. She stared for a moment before the height became unsettling.  
  
No one noticed her descent from a huddle of carefully placed clouds, and if they did she didn't notice them. The bubble disappeared once she hit the solid ground of her balcony and she wavered on exhausted, unsteady feet before taking a few careful steps inside. The city stretched on in all directions around her, but she didn't have the heart to take it all in. She didn't bother with the lights or her maid. She slid out of her dress and draped it across a gilded chair, hands smoothing over the material, then crawled into bed half-dressed. Her blonde curls splayed across soft white pillows, her eyes fluttered shut almost instantly.  
  
 _The latch on the window gave way easily, softened leather tapping against the streaked window. She leaned forward the push the shutters aside, to look out over the trees covered with black cloth, to take a breath of fresh air not stained with heavy candle smoke. Around the corner, the impatient stamp of a chilled horse sounded against the packed dirt. More guests, Glinda supposed, and she was thankful that her room was at the far end of the building and away from the bustle of late-arriving scandal chasers and ill-minded Munchkinlanders._  
  
 _That was unfair, she thought. She was here, after all. Although perhaps she was chasing a scandal of her own. A soft breeze brought with it scattered laughter and the thump of luggage on the ground. Glinda changed her mind, pulling the window closed again, and when she turned back to the bed she nearly screamed in fright. If she hadn’t been so used to the idea of a green girl in her bedroom she might have had a heart attack._  
  
 _“Elphaba Thropp!” She exclaimed quietly, one hand against her fluttering chest. Her heart beat unevenly, as it did when she dreamed of Elphaba, as it did when she became too lost in her memories._  
  
 _“Glinda.” Elphaba said, just as quietly, but Glinda could swear she saw some hint of amusement in the girl’s unrelenting stare. It was so breathtakingly familiar to have Elphaba this close, green skin shadowed by the intimate candlelight, that Glinda’s heart squeezed with nostalgia. She took a step forward, fingers lifting- then stopped. Their earlier argument flashed through her mind._  
  
 _“I don’t believe we have anything more-“ She began coldly, but Elphaba moved forward, dark eyes flashing._  
  
 _“I would like to apologize.” Elphaba stated. Glinda was caught up in her sharp gaze, in the dangerous, disconcerting power that it held, in the uncomfortable desire it sometimes called to the surface. She swallowed and glanced away._  
  
 _“Then do so.”_  
  
 _“I am sorry, Glinda.” Elphaba said formally, but there was no hint of mocking in her tone. Glinda heard her skirts rustle as she moved across the room. “You were simply the closest person when my patience finally ran out.”_  
  
 _“I accept your apology, Elphaba.” Glinda said simply, as if she would have been able to turn it down, as if there was any power to be gained from Elphaba Thropp. Almost at once, the room felt warm and shadowed, too suggestive. It was decorated in romantic burgundy and gold against dark wood, and the few candles illuminated bits and pieces but not enough to be respectable. She knew it was all the traveling and the excitement of the past few days that caused the blush upon her cheeks, the flush rising along her neck._  
  
 _She expected Elphaba to take her leave, but the green girl hovered in the middle of the room, hands clasped firmly in front of her. Glinda was suddenly aware that perhaps she was not alone in her memories, in her fervent dreams, that perhaps the hurried girl who had kissed her so fleetingly in the Emerald City still lived beneath that frown and those troubling wrinkles._  
  
 _The brush of green lips against her own became as real as though Elphaba had actually crossed the room and caught Glinda up in her arms, gentle and dangerous. Glinda remembered wondering if that mouth would leave a stain, pressing her fingertips to burning lips that had no longer seemed a part of her._  
  
 _This staggering rush of emotions must have been written all across her face because Elphaba’s frown deepened and she caught Glinda’s eyes seriously._  
  
 _“Are you all right, Glinda?” She asked, and Glinda watched her emerald hands tighten. Glinda needed the Witch to leave immediately, before her own composure disintegrated._  
  
 _“Yes.” She struggled to say, her mouth curling into a rare frown that she tried to keep at bay. She felt the ridiculous urge to cry, to crawl onto the lumpy bed and bury her face in a pillow. She was grown, for Oz sake, and even the return of old friends wrapped in emotional turmoil-- well, perhaps that was a respectable reason to cry. That didn’t change the fact that she did not want to cry in front of Elphaba Thropp._  
  
 _“Oh, you silly girl.” Elphaba said quietly, and Glinda’s heart spun away before her mind could catch up. In a wild moment of terror, she believed Elphaba really could read her mind- she was a witch, after all- and cold fear invaded her chest. Then, she managed to register Elphaba’s tone and the fact that the green girl was crossing the room, coming closer. Her gaze was sharp and penetrating, but- wary, maybe. As close to nervous as she would allow herself to be. The echoes of her quiet words had already faded from the room._  
  
 _“Elphie.” Glinda murmured when the green girl stopped in front of her, some unknown force holding Elphaba in position. Though the nickname was tender on Glinda’s lips, it was the last time she would ever call her old roommate by such a familiar term. The name no longer fit any idea of Elphaba- of the Witch._  
  
 _Glinda moved with instinctive assurance, her hands folded tight against her stomach. Her fingers were clenched together painfully. Elphaba towered above Glinda, her sharp nose angled down, her dark eyes inexplicably warm and callous. She smelled familiar, like wood smoke and wind; it was comforting and erotic at the same time. Glinda stood on her tiptoes and kissed her on the mouth. She didn’t expect any reciprocation from Elphaba and none came, just the slight warmth of soft lips against her own, just the brush of nose against nose._  
  
 _Glinda blushed beautifully and pulled away, unable to face Elphaba in her sudden shame._  
  
 _“Oh, don’t be embarrassed.” The Witch said, and her voice was thicker than it had been a moment ago. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” She moved over to the chair and sat down. Glinda was left in the halting remains of desire, her heart beating irregularly. Elphaba had always been the one in control, had always directed the ebb and flow of their torrid relationship. Glinda realized now was no different. Forget the sparkling wand and expensive dresses, forget the influential marriage and the ongoing diplomacy, forget her own promises to herself. She was lost in a schoolgirl thrill_  
  
 _“I was surprised you came.” Glinda managed to say. The moment had passed, was minutes ago and close enough to be looked over._  
  
 _“Of course I did. She was my sister, after all, although at times we both wished to forget it.” Elphaba turned her eyes to the window beside them. Glinda saw a flash of vulnerability that could have been the flicker of candlelight across the Witch’s verdant face. Whatever it was, it was quickly covered by a stern resolve. “I am surprised you’re here.” Elphaba said, catching Glinda’s light blue eyes._  
  
 _“Well, we were old schoolmates, and- unlike others, we have- we did keep in touch.” Glinda took the chair on the other side of the short table. Elphaba hmph-ed. They sat in silence for a time, constricted but comfortable in the familiar tension. Glinda kept her eyes on the Witch, examining her familiar features and the odd wrinkle or scar that had developed in time spent apart. Elphaba watched the night sky. The stars were brilliant in Munchinkland, not hindered by cloud or mist._  
  
 _When the candle has burnt to wax and shimmering oil, Elphaba stood. Her heavy skirts shifted against her legs. Glinda’s lust returned unexpectedly, the illicit memory of her roommate’s long legs returning to her mind. She followed Elphaba to the door, deciding to keep her lingering desires to herself. Elphaba stopped though, fingers on the doorknob, and turned back to Glinda._  
  
 _Glinda could see it in her eyes, though the other girl tried vainly to disguise it. She could see it because she could feel it, could taste it on her tongue, trace it along her sensitized skin. It hung between them._  
  
 _She waited. She was the past the point of insecure, of unsure._  
  
 _Elphaba kissed her, like those nights in dim inns along the Yellow Brick Road, all tongue and teeth and controlling hands. And Glinda let her._  
  
When she finally woke the evening sun was setting in a spray of golden light that splintered through green crystal. The reflections spilled across her skin and her heart was cold in her chest for a split second as she stared down at her unexpectedly leaf-colored skin, not sure it was her own, her mind still halfway between sleep and awareness. Her vision cleared and the mirage passed, and she found herself staring out past her balcony and into a fiery sky. The pinks of the sunset gave the green buildings a darker tinge, lit up the skyline in an array of mismatched shades.  
  
Glinda sat up and moved her legs over the edge of the bed, the remnants of an aching dream clearing in the back of her mind. Her curls were pressed against the side of her head. She had recovered from her exhaustion but she felt the odd surrealism of letting the day lapse in a deep sleep, as if she had let something important pass her by. There would be notes and letters and formal requests littering the table by her front door but they would have to wait, at least until the sharp twist in her chest returned to a dull ache. It didn’t seem fair that she had been left alone, it wasn’t fair that anyone had to be left alone, and sometimes the reality of her loss caught up with her. It ached in the back of her throat and threatened behind her eyes, but she waited for it to pass. It always passed.  
  
She knew enough now to not get lost in it.  
  
The shallow, comforting satisfaction she had derived from her public persona had faded away with Elphaba, leaving her slightly hollow as she moved from day to day, a bit of her carved out or melted and missing. The cheers and the gossip that had turned swiftly and surprisingly personally cruel severed whatever connection had tied her to the general public and she slowly isolated herself from their adoration. The driving hunger that had once fueled her died away in the calm after the storm. That maturity came drastically late, of course, but it still illuminated the shadows of her past, shone toward the choices she had made under questionable influences.  
  
Elphaba’s death had not faded from the tabloids or the forefront of the public’s concentrations, but eventually they stopped questioning her about it. She had tired of reciting her edited version of the past, certain times highlighted and others passed by entirely, and perhaps the citizens of Oz had picked up on her reluctance. Perhaps her story had been printed so widely that no one needed her to repeat it once more. Either way, she was relieved.  
  
They called her the Witch and the name became associated with green and malice and a heavy black cloth smoldering on the flagstones of a castle tower. Some well-known artist had created the depiction and Glinda kept a copy hidden beneath parchment in her desk, as morbid and unrealistic as she realized it was, as nostalgic and pathetic as she recognized it to be.  
  
She was not as comfortable in the public eye anymore but she was learning to embrace it for different reasons that were not quite apparent to her yet, that tumbled to the tip of her tongue at times but mostly kept to the shadows. Perhaps there was something more to the public’s adoration, ways in which she could turn their pride to support, and their love into loyalty. They were fickle and easily swayed but she was beginning to see that she could shift the flow in her favor.  
  
The wizard was long gone. Madame Morrible scrapped for food and power in the twisted alliances of the Palace prison. Glinda ruled most of Oz behind the impenetrable guise of politics and a few meticulously chosen men who gathered around her table twice on almost any day. She stayed up most nights with books along her bed, pouring over laws and the swift tides of revolution. It was ironic, of course, in a painfully reminiscent sort of way, her silver glasses slipping down her nose in the candlelight.  
  
Those glasses lay on the table beside her and she lifted them, sliding them daintily onto her nose. A fresh silk robe hung beside her wardrobe and she slipped it on, lifting her hair out of the back and tying the light colored sash. Fresh coffee steamed in her day room, a pot dripping quietly off to the side, a cup almost white with cream and sugar placed beside a the expected pile of letters and memos.  
  
She sat down and attempted to read.  
  
 _Glinda shifted uncomfortably in her thick coat and recrossed her legs beneath the table. It was chilly in the dining room of their inn but her breakfast was steaming against her neck and Elphaba was ridiculously close beside her. She stared down into the mush filling a crude bowl and the half-fried strips of meat that had been dropped on top. She was starving but not altogether sure that it was actually food._  
  
 _"Eat." Elphaba grunted, pushing a forkful of the stuff into her own mouth. Her hair had been braided into a tangled mess and she wore that dreadful hat down low on her forehead, shapeless black dress seeming much too thin in the weather. Glinda ignored her suggestion, of course, but watched the other girl instead, caught up once again in just how flawlessly green her skin really was. Her eyes caught on the darkened bruise along Elphaba's collarbone and she blushed furiously, immediately averting her eyes. Elphaba finished quickly and Glinda managed to down half a piece of meat and then their driver was calling from the door. Elphaba gathered the bags in her arms and waited for Glinda to step out first._  
  
 _They had handed their things off to the driver and stepped into the carriage before Glinda worked up the nerve to lean close and whisper in Elphaba's ear._  
  
 _"Did I do that?" She murmured, inclining her head toward the oval bruise barely visible beneath Elpahaba's collar. Elphaba looked, running her fingers along the spot, and then smirked._  
  
 _"Yes, my dear." She answered, tugging the dress up to cover the hickey. "You did."_  
  
An forlorn coffee cup sat on the edge of the table, liquid congealing and cold in the porcelain. A spread of papers and half-opened letters, memos stacked haphazardly in some sort of order, letter cutter leaning to the side. The chair was pushed back and slightly sideways, not quite even with the table. A robe was thrown across the high-backed chair and it dangled, dangerously close to sliding to the floor.  
  
 _"Here." Glinda said, and she thrust the apple in her hand toward her distracted roommate. Elphaba looked up with wide eyes partially obscured by reading glasses, her long green fingers clutching to a dusty book. She opened her mouth as if to say something, shut it as if to hide something, and released the book with one hand._  
  
 _Her hand was just as green as the rest of her and it was off-putting in a startling way, but Glinda carefully dropped the apple into it anyway. The red was suddenly cleaner and clearer against the backdrop of emerald fingers that curled around it._  
  
 _Glinda turned back to her side of the room, embarrassed by her sudden display of friendship. She heard Elphaba rustle behind her, shifting with the book and with that apple, and a phrase slipped into the silence between them, chased her back toward her bed._  
  
 _"Thank you."_  
  
The floor was dusty from lack of use, but Glinda's heels made short scuffs in the layer of dirt that revealed the shining verdant color. The wizard's monstrosity, a contraption of gears and shiny metal, hung lifelessly at one end of the room. It was threatening, as if it would suddenly burst to life, roaring and spinning and growling at her. There was also a chance it would just give up its fragile grasp and clunk to the ground, cracking into shattered pieces. The eyes shone dully.  
  
The rusted lattice of the monkey cage was falling apart and she avoided that section of the room. If she looked hard enough, she could see a few rotting feathers littering the floor. She stopped on the steps and rubbed the sole of her shoe until she could see the glittering green floor beneath her.  
  
No one used the room anymore. She had made sure of that. She had locked it from the public, from the private, from even herself. It held nothing but memories of Elphaba, painful ones at that. Memories that had changed the sway and shift of time and had foreshadowed the revolutionary fall of the government, of their civilization.  
  
Who would have thought she would be the one left over?  
  
She took a seat in the still emerald throne and looked down over the room for the first time. She saw Elphaba sitting close to the Wizard on the steps below, saw her and Elphie cowering near the door, lights flashing across their faces. She saw Elphaba bent over that thick text, muttering and mumbling and terrifying Galinda. She found that she was crying.  
  
 _The girl stepped forward from the shadows and the sun shone brilliantly on her emerald skin._  
  
 _Glinda gasped._


End file.
